The Morning After
by newgirl87
Summary: Together, finally, married, finally, Elsie and Charles have shared one night together. What happens when they wake up the next morning? [ONE-SHOT]


_A/N: Trying to get used to writing longer scenes. This was fun, I hope you have as much fun with it as I did. Enjoy!_

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He was wrapped in the midst of the most pleasurable dream. His beloved Mrs. Hughes standing beside him at the alter, the traffic of London whispering through the trappings of their secluded garden. The Crawley family danced behind them. Anna played a lute while Mr. Molesley sang joyfully. And as Charles pressed his lips against his bride's he found them laying in the largest of beds, her naked body wrapped around his own as he tasted her flesh for the first time. How easily she spread her legs for him, only ever for him, as she bestowed loving and passionate kisses across his face.

He smiled as the sun passed across his eyelids. Blinking awake, the dream began to fade, leaving traces of bliss in its wake. He could feel his manhood already half-cocked.

But he had promised himself he would give her one day off of any love making. He didn't want to hurt her. And he knew the first few times for a woman could be very painful. That being the last thing he wanted for his beloved, he believed the best practice was to perform their love making in small doses here and there until she was comfortable. Which meant keeping his urges to himself.

That didn't mean, however, that he couldn't touch her. Groggily he reached out beside him, ready to feel his wife against the tips of his fingers. As his hand reached further and further he allowed himself to fully open his eyes, only to find her missing.

He shot up in bed. Mind whirring in agony and fear. Looking everywhere at once his eyes fell to her suitcase, still there in the room. His heart began to slide back down his throat. Surely she hadn't left him. He tried to imagine Mrs. Hughes carrying an armful of clothes and leaving her suitcase behind. No, no, that wasn't like her. Besides, in order to carry that armful of clothes she would have had to open said suitcase. And as he examined her suitcase carefully he felt himself blush - her slip remained on top of it. Right where it had been thrown, quite untouched from the night before.

Indeed, the entire room was an entanglement of garments scattered left and right. He recalled, with an ever stiffening manhood, that although he had tried to show restraint on their first night, she had completely ruined the plan (as she usually did with any and all plans he made). Those sly grins and full bodied kisses of hers. The mere memory of which had him fully ready to go, his member twitching under the blankets. Which reminded him: he was still naked.

And that meant she was too.

As the thought crossed his mind he heard sounds coming from the lavatory. He turned just in time to see her walk through the doorway. Completely naked, his wife stood before him slowly reddening as he took her in. Her voluptuous breasts. The slight curve of her hips his hand had traced over and over. And that little tuft of hair hiding the most wonderful place he might ever dare call home.

He sighed contentedly, she was still there.

"I'm not a piece of art, dear, there's no need to stare." She said quietly.

He chuckled, holding his hand out for her. As she climbed back under the covers, he said, "It is rare that you are wrong. But in this instance you are, on both counts."

She giggled lightly as he kissed her cheek. "Oh? Rarely wrong you say?"

"And naturally you heard only the part you wanted to hear." He grumbled, kissing his way across her jaw, keeping his achingly hard groin away from her as he thought _One day off, remember the plan, one day off so as not to hurt her._

She turned around so he could kiss her lips.

"Good morning," he offered.

She smiled, "Good morning."

Turning more fully around, she brought her hand up and gently ran it through his hair. Not for the first time, they simply stared at the other. He wondered if she found it equally as awe inspiring that they were there, married, in bed, together.

Not quite sure what to say, and feeling a need to break the silence, he said, "Good morning, Mrs. Carson."

That earned him another loving smile, "Good morning, Charles."

He kissed her palm as she smoothed out his eyebrows.

She giggled gently, and said, "Charlie," as though the thought had just occurred to her.

Humming, he said, "Indeed," then kissed her deeply.

They kissed languidly. His hand strayed to her hip as she sighed. Running light circles across her skin, he moved to kiss her neck, taking his time, inching his way along as he tasted her. When he reached the crest of her cleavage warning bells went off in his mind _the plan the plan!_ And he returned to looking in her eyes.

"Breakfast arrives at half seven." He said stupidly.

"What time is it now?"

He tore his gaze from her to glance at the clock. "Just seven."

When he looked back at her he found that sly smile from the night before. He swallowed sharply.

"How long," she blushed, "about how long would you say our - our activities from last night were?"

It was difficult to answer. Partially because he most certainly hadn't kept track, and partially because she was running a finger through the hair on his chest and it was quite distracting.

"I'm not sure." He said.

She hummed in response, shifting closer. One of her legs slowly wrapped around one of his and he found it increasingly difficult to hide his arousal. Indeed, as she shifted closer, he shifted away (as unobtrusively as possible) until he was nearly at the edge. A strange look crossed her eyes as he did this, adding to her sly smile turning her into some kind of huntress. He felt like a pudding about to be devoured.

"Five minutes?" He said, at last throwing out an answer, any answer just to keep the conversation going.

She laughed aloud - so rare he was privileged to hear such a sound - laughing until she was wiping tears from her eyes. He couldn't help but chuckle too, it was contagious. Especially as he could feel the whole bed shake with her mirth. Oh how lovely to be able to share such intimacy with her.

A hiccup caught her off guard, and she began to settle. "Oh, Charles, I very much doubt it was five minutes."

That puzzled him. "Three minutes?"

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He was on the edge of the bed now with nowhere to go but where she insisted. She pressed a light kiss to his lips. It was only the second time she had kissed him. No, he correct himself as her tongue swept across his bottom lip, third time. She had initiated the kiss three ti -

He groaned as her leg pressed against his hardness.

She smiled against his lips, "Either way, we have time enough until breakfast arrives."

 _Plan be damned._ He rolled them over, positioning himself between her legs. Somehow he managed a glance at the clock.

All in all, it took about eight minutes. And they were very hungry for breakfast.

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 _Leave a review! It takes less than eight minutes ;)_


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